


Heat

by Kantayra



Series: The Best-Laid Plans (Atobe/Tezuka) [13]
Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Anal Sex, Christmas Fluff, Cold Weather, M/M, Married Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Sharing Body Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 18:34:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8928442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kantayra/pseuds/Kantayra
Summary: Tezuka has learned the secret of mastering winter's cold: marry a warm, willing Atobe. Christmas smut.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Atobe and Tezuka wanted to have sex for Christmas; that seems to be what they want to do for everything these days. :P Posted early since I'll be offline for the holidays. Inspired by the fact that, OMFG, it was _cold_ this weekend.

With one last frigid puff of breath, Tezuka slammed the door to the chalet behind him, as if that could somehow keep out the cold that had already seeped into his bones. He leaned back against the heavy oak door for a moment, catching his breath after the exceptionally arduous day he’d just spent on the slopes.

Almost immediately, his glasses fogged over at the comparative warmth indoors, and Tezuka fumbled with one hand until he found the shelf by the door to drop his helmet and goggles on. He spent the next few minutes fiddling with his gloves to get them off, then blowing on his fingers so that they were once again flexible enough to manipulate the various zippers on his ski suit properly.

He really hadn’t meant to stay out so long on such a cold day, but Echizen – who was staying in the next chalet over – had given Tezuka that unimpressed look of his and said that _he_ was skiing the black pistes today, and it wasn’t like Tezuka could _back down_ from a challenge like that. Especially since Tezuka hadn’t had Atobe at his side to keep his crazier impulses in check (or at least focused entirely on Atobe’s glorious self, as they usually were).

The subsequent snowball fight they’d gotten into with some of the Swiss and Italian players (entirely at Echizen’s provocation, needless to say) certainly hadn’t helped matters, especially after Echizen (filthy little traitor that he was) had stuffed snow down the back of Tezuka’s collar while Tezuka had foolishly turned his back to him. Echizen always had been a menace, and Tezuka was grateful – for the umpteenth time – that he’d already whisked Atobe safely away to Europe by the time Echizen finally hit puberty.

The end result, though, was that Tezuka’s ski suit was wet on the _inside_ , too, and when he peeled the top half of it off, he found that the thermals he was wearing beneath it were equally soaked through. Feeling suddenly even colder than he had out in the elements with the blowing snow, Tezuka shivered when he pulled off the top of his thermals, and his wet skin met the air and blossomed immediately into goosebumps.

Absently running his hands up and down the opposite arms in a vain effort to fight the chill away, Tezuka finally decided that he couldn’t stand his fogged-over glasses for another second and fumbled on the coat-rack by the door for some dry fabric he could use to wipe them off. He found one of Atobe’s hoodies quickly enough, one that was well-worn and well-loved so that the fleece was soft to the touch. Since Atobe wasn’t there to catch him at it, Tezuka used the sleeve as a shammy until his lenses were clear again.

Vision thus restored, Tezuka turned his attention to disentangling himself from the bottom half of his ski suit. He had to get his boots off first, both of which were caked with snow, since it was snowing again since the last time the resort staff had plowed the sidewalks leading up to all the chalet doors.

Tezuka’s hands were wet again by the time he finally got his boots off, then peeled off his wet socks, which were stuck to his feet and ankles like glue. Even though his hands already felt cold, compared to his fingers, his toes felt like absolute _ice_.

Tezuka once again cursed his strange European husband who maintained that the Christmas season absolutely _must_ be spent in a place with snow, conifers, and plenty of skiing. If Tezuka had had his way, they would already be in Melbourne now, training for the Australian Open in a place where it was actually _summer_. Tezuka missed outdoor courts with a fierce passion just then; although the resort had excellent indoor courts, it was never the same.

Speaking of the indoor courts… Tezuka assumed that was where Atobe had gone after he’d blown off Tezuka that morning and left him to Echizen’s conspicuous lack of mercies. Atobe was up to _something_ lately that he was hiding entirely from Tezuka. It generally involved sneaking off to the tennis courts with Coach Werner and Stephan, their newest assistant trainer, and often left Atobe’s right arm shaky when he got back several hours later; given Atobe’s general strength and stamina, anything that could weaken him that severely left Tezuka more than mildly alarmed about their next rematch.

Tezuka was honestly surprised that Atobe hadn’t returned to their chalet yet and debated texting him before fully removing his ski suit, but Tezuka was cold and wet and the giant fireplace at the far end of their living room looked impossibly inviting at the moment. Tezuka liked to think he was a good husband, but if Atobe needed someone to pick him up in this incoming blizzard, he could damn well ask one of their dozen friends that Atobe had invited to stay at the resort for Christmas; Tezuka was officially _in_ for the evening.

With some effort, Tezuka rolled the legs of his ski suit down, holding himself steady with one arm against the door as he worked the sodden bottom cuff off his frozen right foot, and then his left. His bottom thermals weren’t as wet as the uppers, thankfully, except for right around his ankles. He debated leaving them on since, as warm as the ambient air was in the chalet, he was still shivering, but it was best to get rid of everything wet.

He’d just worked himself free from his bottom thermals and was down to just his shorts, kicking the whole soggy pile of his clothes into the corner (where Atobe would inevitably later yell at him for being a lazy slob), when he heard the sound of a door opening and looked up in surprise to see Atobe coming in from the bedroom, warm steam curling around him (likely from a hot bath or shower), wearing nothing but a short, white-fur robe, a mug of something hot in his hand.

The two of them froze, wide-eyed, staring at each other, each of them obviously having erroneously thought that the other was still out. A beat, and then the assessment changed: everything about Atobe was the picture of luxuriant, pampered warmth, and everything about Tezuka was bitter, shivering cold.

Tezuka saw the moment realization dawned in Atobe’s eyes, and then Atobe let out an alarmed “Don’t you _dare_!” just as Tezuka _pounced_.

Atobe let out an inelegant little shriek and managed to get his mug to safely on one of the end tables, before darting around the sofa to evade Tezuka’s freezing clutches. Fortunately (for people not named Atobe), Tezuka had anticipated this and leapt _over_ the sofa, catching Atobe in a sliding tackle right on the rug before the fireplace.

“Ack!” Atobe complained with half a laugh when Tezuka buried his hands into the all-encompassing fluff of Atobe’s robe, instinctively seeking out the warmest place on Atobe’s body. “Your hands are _freezing_!” Despite his objections, he obligingly squeezed his thighs shut around Tezuka’s hands, though.

“You should feel my feet,” Tezuka agreed, burying his equally cold nose into the ruff around Atobe’s neck. “God, this is _soft_ ,” he said ecstatically. “What is it? Chinchilla? Rabbit?”

Atobe wrapped his fur-clad arms around Tezuka’s back and rolled them so that he was on top, and Tezuka was now fully within the dual warming auras of the fireplace and Atobe’s body. “Synthetic.”

Tezuka blinked up at him questioningly, because everyone knew Atobe didn’t settle for substitutes.

“Fur is murder,” Atobe informed Tezuka pompously. “Surely, you know that?”

Tezuka let out a sharp bark of laughter that, even now, Atobe could still surprise him. Although Tezuka really should have realized: Atobe had always had a soft heart.

Atobe’s gaze darkened as he looked down at Tezuka, and he cupped the back of Tezuka’s head with one hand. “If you really want to warm up,” Atobe breathed hotly against his lips, “let’s do this properly.”

Tezuka’s eyelashes fell shut at the softness of Atobe’s lips, just gently brushing his. He flicked out his tongue and caught a tantalizing taste of citrus and chocolate, before he was suddenly left abandoned on the rug.

“Here.” Tezuka opened his eyes to see that Atobe had slipped the fur robe off his shoulders and was now offering it to Tezuka. “You need this more than I do.”

Tezuka took a full minute to admire the fact that, as expected, Atobe was completely nude under the robe. His skin had an orange glow from the firelight and glistened as if oiled and moisturized well after his bathing. Tezuka knew all too well how much time and effort went into keeping Atobe’s skin smooth and supple during the wintertime, and it seemed only fair to appreciate every inch of it.

Atobe’s smirk widened the longer Tezuka admired his body, until finally Tezuka snatched the robe from Atobe’s hand and wrapped himself up in it, just because Tezuka was afraid Atobe’s ego might overinflate and explode if the moment carried on any longer.

Atobe had, without a doubt, the most beautiful body Tezuka had ever seen. And even Tezuka was forced to admit that that wasn’t just his own internal bias, but a universal assessment of human beauty.

Tezuka watched the sleek muscles in Atobe’s back, buttocks, and calves as he strutted back in the direction of the bedroom, a noticeable sway to his hips that was only present when he _wanted_ Tezuka to look at him. Tezuka felt the first stirring of life within his shorts, which was an encouraging sign that perhaps frostbite hadn’t castrated him after all.

Atobe disappeared into their bedroom for a moment and then emerged holding several bottles of scented oils that he kept for his daily beauty regimen. Tezuka immediately hardened further at the thought of what lovely use those oils could be put to, in combination with Atobe’s own prominent erection.

“You’ll not be needing the shorts tonight,” Atobe informed him imperiously as he sauntered over to the end table to retrieve his still-steaming mug. “Remove them.”

There were times when Tezuka disobeyed Atobe’s orders because Atobe loved a man with indomitable will; Atobe demanding that Tezuka remove his underwear was never one of those times. Still wrapped cozily in Atobe’s robe, Tezuka slipped his thumbs under the waistband of his shorts and slid them down his legs and off. He kicked them away with one foot, and they ended up half under the sofa.

Atobe eyed the mess with a critical eye but didn’t comment. Instead, he nudged Tezuka’s knees apart with one big toe, and when Tezuka parted for him, knelt between Tezuka’s thighs, his hips brushed on either side by the white fur of the robe.

Tezuka was very hard now, indeed.

“Still cold?” Atobe asked, setting the bottles of oils a few feet away from Tezuka’s right hip. Tezuka nodded, even though the fire and the robe and Atobe had already done quite a lot to warm him, if only because he wanted to see just how hot Atobe could make him tonight. “Sit up,” Atobe ordered and, after Tezuka had: “Drink this.”

Atobe lifted the mug to Tezuka’s lips, and Tezuka steadied the base with one hand before taking a deep sip. It turned out the mug contained hot cocoa, which explained the chocolate that Tezuka had tasted in Atobe’s mouth earlier. While Tezuka generally preferred other winter beverages personally, the warming liquid heated a trail down to his stomach, and Tezuka gratefully took another sip. Upon his second drink, Tezuka detected a strong stick of cinnamon mixed in, which he quite enjoyed.

“It leaves a delightful aftertaste, doesn’t it?” Atobe said huskily, as observant of Tezuka’s responses as always.

Tezuka merely grunted; commenting on the finer things in life had always been Atobe’s forte, not his. Tezuka was content to merely savor, while Atobe patiently held the mug in offering to Tezuka. While Atobe always attended to Tezuka’s pleasure, it was far rarer to see Atobe take on a subservient role like this (even in the intimate privacy of their bedroom) so that Tezuka wanted to enjoy every moment. Were Ganymede ever cast down from Olympus, Tezuka was well prepared to fight off the gods themselves, since Atobe was the clear logical replacement for divine cup-bearer, in both skill and beauty.

Tezuka finished about a third of the cocoa before he decided there was something far hotter and sweeter that he’d rather taste. Atobe set the mug aside, and Tezuka eagerly lay back down against the rug, the fur robe still engulfing him, and pulled Atobe down on top of him.

Atobe, graceful and sneaky as a feline, insinuated himself between Tezuka’s thighs and paused for one moment to look down at Tezuka, his upper body still propped up by one hand right beside Tezuka’s head.

“You were made to be bathed in firelight,” Atobe murmured and then lowered himself so that their bodies were pressed tight together along their whole lengths.

Tezuka’s cheeks flushed as they often did when Atobe complemented his appearance, if only because – while Tezuka was thoroughly confident of everything else – he still had a difficult time believing that someone as gorgeous as Atobe could possibly think that _Tezuka_ was on the same scale.

Atobe’s mouth caught Tezuka’s firmly, a little bit roughly, and Tezuka let Atobe’s demanding tongue inside. They both tasted of chocolate now, and their kiss was as sweet as it was fiery. Tezuka’s fingers tangled into Atobe’s soft hair, pulling Atobe deeper into him, sparking the fire to life between their lips.

At some point, Atobe’s hand began trailing down the center of Tezuka’s chest, parting the fur layer between them until they were skin on skin. Tezuka’s breath started to hitch when Atobe’s hand reached his abdomen, and more sharply when Atobe’s thumb dipped into his navel for one searing moment. When Atobe reached the sash of the robe, he pulled it free with an impatient yank, and then all of Tezuka was fully exposed to Atobe’s hot, wandering hands that cupped hips and thighs and finally crept down to cradle Tezuka’s balls, provoking a low groan in response.

“You’ve let yourself get too far chilled, my beloved,” Atobe whispered into the shell of Tezuka’s ear. “I’ll have to warm you from within immediately.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Tezuka agreed wantonly.

Tezuka’s cock was hard and aching and fully erect now, but Atobe continued to ignore it, palming Tezuka’s balls before dipping further back, stroking rhythmically along the most sensitive skin on Tezuka’s body, and then delving even further to Tezuka’s puckered entrance. Atobe teased the opening for one glorious moment and then pulled away to retrieve one of the bottles of oil instead.

“Which do you prefer?” Atobe asked, carefully considering the three options he’d selected. “Lavender, vanilla, or lilac?”

Tezuka groaned in annoyance because he honestly couldn’t care less. “Which do _you_ prefer?” he countered.

Atobe raised one eyebrow at that. “Demanding tonight, aren’t you, sweet husband? I was just going to give you my fingers, but since that sounds like a request for my tongue, how can I refuse?” Atobe picked one of the three. “Vanilla, to taste,” he informed Tezuka with a smirk, like their love-making was some kind of sinful dessert recipe.

Actually, Tezuka wasn’t entirely sure that it wasn’t. He let Atobe maneuver his hips and legs any way Atobe wanted after that, his muscles already fluttering in eager anticipation of the sensual treat that was Atobe’s mouth. Atobe arched Tezuka’s pelvis up as far as it would go comfortably and spread Tezuka’s thighs far apart until he was fully on display. A stupid voice from Tezuka’s upbringing whispered in the back of his head that the position was completely undignified, but then Atobe slid down Tezuka’s body so that his head was between Tezuka’s legs, and _that_ sight thankfully shut up the doubting voice once and for all.

Atobe uncapped the bottle, and then Tezuka felt the warm, wet oil dribble over his entrance. Atobe’s finger was there almost immediately to catch the flow of oil and guide it around and then _in_.

Tezuka gasped when Atobe penetrated him first with one finger, letting the oil flow deep inside. And then Atobe’s finger pulled back out, and Tezuka watched blearily as Atobe’s head bobbed down, his mouth down out of sight, until Tezuka could feel the warm wetness of Atobe’s tongue against his hole, requesting admittance from Tezuka’s sphincter, which Tezuka granted immediately. Hot, clever, and wicked, Atobe’s tongue entered Tezuka’s body, piercing him sharp and deep one moment, broad and stretching the next.

Tezuka squirmed helplessly against the merciless onslaught; he’d never had any defenses against Atobe’s tongue, and he hoped to never develop any, if complete surrender felt like _this_. He continued to writhe back against the fur robe, seared by the heat of the fire, limbs thrashing erratically while Atobe’s tongue sought out all his deepest secrets, lapping up every molecule of vanilla-flavored oil from within the Tezuka’s body.

Tezuka’s abandoned cock strained the entire time at the lack of attention until Tezuka thought that he might come entirely untouched. But then, suddenly, Atobe’s hand came up and gripped Tezuka firmly by the base, halting the imminent orgasm.

“P-Please…” Tezuka breathed in a very rare beg.

Atobe’s tongue slithered back out of Tezuka's hole, leaving it gaping and trembling for more. “Not until I’ve warmed you thoroughly first,” Atobe teased, sounding even more unbearably smug than usual. “After all, I would never forgive myself if my husband were to take chill.”

Tezuka groaned but yielded because he had absolute faith by this point that he would thoroughly enjoy whatever Atobe had planned and that Atobe would always leave him entirely sated in the end, even if pleasing Tezuka demanded every last bit of stamina in Atobe’s body.

Tezuka felt more oil dribbled over his entrance, and then Atobe’s fingers worked it back inside him, so that he was slick both with it and with Atobe’s saliva.

“Lavender this time,” Atobe informed him, “not to taste.”

He kept his grip on the base of Tezuka’s cock, which was the only thing that prevented Tezuka from coming when Atobe leaned in and sucked the head into his mouth once, quickly, _hungrily_.

Satisfied when Tezuka gasped desperately, Atobe upended the last bottle of oil over the tip of his own erection. “That leaves lilac for me,” he said, rubbing the oil up and down into his own flesh, while his right hand held Tezuka firmly in place, preventing his impending orgasm.

“So eager to burn for me tonight, hmm?” Atobe teased when his body came to cover Tezuka’s once again, and Tezuka felt that this time it was Atobe’s cock that was demanding entry.

Tezuka’s muscles melted for that even more readily than they’d melted for Atobe’s fingers and tongue earlier. A long, shaky groan escaped Atobe’s lips as Tezuka’s tight heat encircled him.

Tezuka let out a series of harsh breaths because he’d honestly thought he was completely warmed up by now, but it all seemed like _nothing_ compared to the blazing fire inside him as Atobe branded him from within.

“Is that, ah, good?” Atobe finally breathed out, seated fully inside Tezuka, his balls pressed tight against Tezuka’s parted ass-cheeks.

“Y-Yeah…” Tezuka agreed equally shakily, his hands coming up to clutch at the strong muscles of Atobe’s biceps in order to brace himself.

Atobe didn’t hesitate for a moment after that, taking Tezuka over and over again with long, deep, sure strokes. He lost his grip on Tezuka’s erection at some point, allowing it to slide along Atobe’s hipbone with each thrust. Tezuka wrapped his legs up and around Atobe’s waist in response, driving Atobe ever deeper inside him and guiding Atobe toward his pleasure.

Atobe struck home, again and again, until the molten lava that was pooling at the base of Tezuka’s spine finally became too much to bear, and he came sharply against Atobe’s hip, in quick, gasping stutters in time with Atobe’s rhythmic thrusts against Tezuka’s prostate.

Atobe managed only a half dozen or so thrusts after that, before he came too, and if Tezuka thought his orgasm had been hot, Atobe’s was _smoldering_ , filling Tezuka’s body with spurt after spurt of hot seed.

They collapsed together afterward, still tangled and interlocked on Atobe’s soft fur robe that Tezuka now suspected was completely ruined. Oh well: either the synthetics were washable or else Atobe was bound to have four or five duplicates buried in his various closets around the world. Tezuka was secretly hoping it was the former, though, become he’d become very fond of the robe in their brief time together.

Atobe didn’t stir for a long time, so much so that he was starting to get heavy. But more than that…

Tezuka nudged Atobe’s behind with the big toe of the one leg that was still wrapped around Atobe’s waist. Atobe didn’t so much as stir until Tezuka worked the toe between Atobe’s cheeks and began teasing it over _Atobe’s_ hole.

 _That_ finally won Tezuka a murmur of interest from Atobe’s lips. “Mmm, have I ever mentioned that I love how flexible you are?” Atobe breathed warm and wet across Tezuka’s cheek. His ass pushed up into Tezuka’s foot, seeking penetration, but Tezuka nimbly avoided him. The movement did finally cause Atobe to slip free of Tezuka’s ass, though, and Tezuka could feel the combination of scented oils and Atobe’s semen beginning to leak out of his still-stretched opening.

“Come on,” Tezuka said, moving to roll Atobe off him, “let me up.”

Atobe continued to lie there like a complete dead-weight, sprawled decadently over Tezuka’s body like Tezuka was the most comfortable mattress he’d ever felt. “Don’t wanna,” he mumbled into the soft spot on Tezuka’s neck that always drove Tezuka crazy.

Tezuka debated, for one moment, whether to just let Atobe spend the rest of the night on top of him like this. But in the end, alas, that just wasn’t going to be possible. “I need to get up,” he insisted, giving Atobe’s ass a playful swat.

Atobe groaned and forced himself to move his sluggish limbs. “Why?” he demanded.

“Because now I’m _too_ hot,” Tezuka complained.

Atobe froze, glared down at him, and then immediately collapsed on top of him again. “Well then,” he said, “that’s just too bad.”

Tezuka sighed and resigned himself to spending the rest of the cold, snowing winter’s night far too close to a blazing fire, buried alive in furs, with Atobe’s seemingly limitless nuclear furnace pinning him down. In the end, even Tezuka was forced to concede that demanding anything more really was just a bit greedy.


End file.
